


The mouse and the lions

by moonfox281



Series: Fumes of our love [10]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Journalism, M/M, No Angst, No Smut, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 15:30:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21448480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfox281/pseuds/moonfox281
Summary: He was handsome from the depth of brilliant blue eyes to the gentle expression in his voice. Elegant from the moves of his slender fingers to the slight little curve on edge of his cherry lips. Not one single feature failed to make people judged him as the prettiest thing they had ever seen.Exotic, hazardous, intoxicating but like a 60 stories building, the deadly height only urged you to jump more just to grasp a moment of feeling the flight.She finally understood why men had such a thing for Richard Grayson. He was the juicy poison apple everybody killed for a deadly bite.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Series: Fumes of our love [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/572455
Comments: 47
Kudos: 385





	The mouse and the lions

**Author's Note:**

> Did you miss me?

“Rose!”

Rose literally spilled her coffee. Great, the last white shirt in the stack and now she had to do the laundry. 

“Office, now.” Her boss stared at her, he looked like he could spit fire. The vein on his neck made her worry about his bloodstream. 

Dragging herself into the open office, strange enough, she didn’t even have the strength to be mad or scared anymore. She knew why she was called. It was just another day in this hellhole. 

Perry spinned on his chair, on the table was the first draft of her stories, all three pages fresh out of legal office like newly baked bread. She had even had them colored, framed and washed, all ready to hit the shell. Looked like someone thought differently. 

“How many exact time do I have to tell you, Rose?”

“Depends on the stuff you tell?” Yes, talking back was bad, but to be honest, she didn’t give shit anymore. 

“Goddamn it, Rose!” Perry rose off his chair, palms planted on the table, looked down at her. “You can’t keep doing this to me, to yourself. When I say we can’t sell stories like this, it means we really fucking can’t.”

“We can’t, or we won’t?”

“We can’t, so we won’t. Do you hear me?”

Rose rolled her eyes, and that didn’t fall off the corner of her boss’s eyes either. 

“I’m serious, Rose.”

“And I’m serious too. How long has it been since we got something really special out in the market? Something besides from vigilantes. Everybody has long got tired of them. They’re no longer special anymore, they’re everywhere now. What the readers want is something mundane, but fresh. I’m bringing something both mundane _ and _ fresh.”

“Richard Grayson isn’t something fresh. He’s been the golden boy of Gotham for two decades.”

“Exactly. And people still think of him so, so why suddenly everybody stop writing about him? Haven’t you all got tired of Superman punching aliens or Bruce Wayne’s chaotic orgies nights on his private arch? Dick Grayson was off the surface for years and the first edition with him back on the paper got the Daily Planet the first hit in 3 years. Don’t you remember that?”

“Yes, I do remember that. You know what else I remember? That exact issue lasted for 3 days until it got pulled.”

“3 days and 130,000 sales, Perry. 3 days.” Rose walked over and looked at Perry dead in the eyes. She wasn’t messing around. She never messed around when it was about her stories. “He’s a goldmine, Perry. Off and back, now look at him, pretty and full of secrets. People love pretty rich people, but they love pretty rich people’s secrets even more. Dick Grayson has it all, and he’s out there waiting for us to paint him all over the american’s screen.” 

Perry rubbed his temples, sighed. He didn’t even have the strength to look at her anymore. 

“We don’t touch the Waynes, Rose. We don’t touch the Waynes. The Waynes owns us. Do you know what’s written in our prosure? The Daily Planet, broadsheet newspaper operated under Wayne Entertainment of Wayne Enterprise. Do you know how many Wayne did I just say? Enough for even the stupidest people to realise how much of a terrible idea writing about them is. Now back to your desk and give me something without a single Wayne on it. And get it done by Wednesday.”

* * *

  
  


Was she angry? No, for fuck hell, she was furious. “Don’t mess with the Wayne” he said yet every single week there was this title of Bruce Wayne doing something stupid or insane as if he was trying to brag this cover of idiocy to the public, yet nothing about his sons? He had a pack full of healthy handsome clones of his own and here they were doing nothing about it. 

Dick Grayson was her muse. Why? She was born Bludhaven’s, lived in Gotham, and working in Metropolis. She knew how expensive Dick Grayson was, knew how much people wanted him. He was the smart Kardashian, a brand on his own. 

Perry was a jerk and a coward not letting her write about him. 

“Hey that’s my cheese.” 

Just when her mind was somewhere off the track, the woman in front of her turned and so nonchalantly pick _ her _ cheese bag out of _ her _cart just like picking them off the open shelf. 

She didn’t say anything, even glared back at Rose before putting every out for the scanning. 

“What the fuck, that my cheese miss.”

“It’s just fucking cheese.”

“What the...”

She stood dumbfounded watching the woman grabbed all of her things and left. 

The cashier looked at her, didn’t even blink. “Welcome to Gotham.”

Normally, that would have thrown her off. This rudeness, this carelessness, the way most people in this store saw this as a daily thing. It was fucked up. But no, no matter how fucked up she knew it was, it was nostalgia. She had lived here, felt this, saw this, tasted this before. The years in sunny Metropolis had almost made her forget how dark Gotham can be. 

What a way to welcome her back, but it was Gotham’s way.

“Here you go.”

She looked down the hand that lowered down her cart, and for a moment, she could only think it was such a big and manly hand. Until she looked up, her mind was full of him. 

It was a very handsome face. Handsome in a way that could make most men think “ah, I wish I looked like him”. 

His face was strong and define, his features molded from granite. His skin tanned of colour that from purely unintentional sun exposure rather than fashion. He was tall, very tall, tall and built enough to make Rose step back in cautious. 

He had this kind of aura that send a crowded room into silence, not just because of his face but also of the way he wore it. 

She looked back down her cart again. A new cheese bag in there made her heart skipped a beat. 

“Th-thank you.”

He only grinned back. But that was more than enough to make Rose’s chest go strange. And it was lucky that she spotted the ring rest on his finger before saying something stupid. 

It was a good ring, very unique, blacker than most black and probably cost more than most rings she had ever seen before. It was a plain band like most male wedding ring except for the two lines of shiny tiny diamonds and divine blue stones hugging around the edges.

Damn her luck. May it drown somewhere in Gotham’s stinky sewers. 

She drove herself back to her shitty Uptown apartment. Was it a good neighborhood? When the sun rose in the west and set in the east, may it be. 

But overall, the rent was free. This old apartment was what she got for herself with the money her parents left her back in the days when the chaos in Gotham was still hot shit to the world. Now? Like she said, vigilantes everywhere. They were in the sky, down on the streets, tucked in alleys or hidden down the ground or even out of space. People nowadays sat on covers of Superman and the JL like they sat on the twelve grounds out of date issue of Cover Girl. 

She was back now. She never liked this city, but everytime she was here, she enjoyed what it could deliver. She got a new target, and she was gonna make him on cover no matter what. 

She dreamt of slapping Perry’s face with her first edition of Grayson on the Daily Planet, and she would. 

* * *

  
  


Rose met him sooner than expected. 

It wasn’t that hard to get an intel about Grayson’s frequent locations in the city, but still, her stalking was working unexpectedly well. 

Walking around in the mall of one of Wayne’s many buildings in the city, Grayson looked of fresh money from inside out. 

He looked young, far younger than any man his age should look. Drown in that giant jacket, oversized sweater and three bodyguards look alike, he looked like a newly rising pop star with a silver spoon in his mouth.

Rose quickly followed his step into the store. The shops and stands here must have made Grayson’s visit a frequent scene, same places that charged a purse the same amount of Rose’s one year salary. 

Boy, if chainless, she could squeeze a whole novel out of this boy. 

Rose pretended to check on some jackets, hid behind a clothing rack to watch Grayson make a conversation with the saleman whose eyes hadn’t left his face for once.

It wasn’t a surprise. Grayson had that kind of face that stopped people off their tracks. He still did. She guessed he must have gotten used to that, the sudden pause in a person’s natural expression when they looked his way followed by overcompensating with a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile. 

How long had it been? 5 years since she last seen his face and 10 since she last met him in person. He was still a ground shaking beauty, as if time had done nothing but good for him. 

Grayson walked out with three bags that probably cost more than Rose could ever made, and he wasn’t finished. Rose watched him made a detour to over 4 other different stores before hitting the gate. 

She did get his number plate when the Escalate stopped to pick him up, but like all politicians and celebrities, the SUV went untraceable after 2 miles on the road. 

She didn’t get what she wanted, what she needed, but at least she knew she was on the right track. 

* * *

Same week, she tried to catch him again at the Belly’s Donut, one of the places told to be his favorite stop. 

After spending half of the day in the corner of the shop without a single sign of Grayson’s pretty face showing up, she changed her plan and made a move to the counter. 

“What can I get you, miss?”

The guy almost made her change her mind about the plan, because holy shit wasn’t he huge. His biceps were even bigger than the blender jar he was cleaning, covered and colored with tattoos and words of a foreign language. His rusty ginger hair was pulled back, tied in a clean bun half peaking out from the top of his head. 

He looked like he could wipe her out of the shop with just a slap of his hand. 

“Miss?”

Rose smiled, swallowed down everything had crossed her mind before because shit, she needed this. 

“Hi, um...” She looked into his eyes, drummed fingers on the wooden surface. “This- this is really strange to ask.”

“It’s okay, it’s my job to help customers.”

“Haha, right.” She laughed, looking down her feet and up to him. “You know Dick, right? Dick Grayson, I mean.”

“Of course, it’d be strange if anyone in this city doesn’t know him.”

“Right… He’s not here today, was he earlier?”

The man squinted his eyes, looking down on her with a swift of change of attitude. “No, not that I recalled. You’re a reporter?”

“No, a friend.” She looked down again, lower her voice. “A long lost friend.”

Men, available or not, they all had at least a slightest weakness to small desperate innocent girls. And boy, wasn’t her acting rocking today.

“I thought I could see him here. It’s been a really long time. We haven’t met… I don’t know. It’s been a really long time. We used to be so close, and now I don’t even know how he looks like. He’s barely on the papers anymore. What happened to that? Bruce used to brag about him all the time.”

“I don’t know. Not that I can tell, all he does everytime is coming here and order an ice americano.”

Rose huffed. “His taste doesn’t even change a bit.”

“You’re… a good friend of him?”

Rose stared at her, tried to push some water out of her eyes. “Yeah, college friend actually. We used to be close. Now? I don’t even how he is, what he’s been doing, or if Bruce still want him to be a part of his chaotic party club, or if those shitty reporters still follow him around like a bunch of vultures.”

“Well, he does come here often enough. But it’s not like we make conversation every time.”

Not the answer she wanted. Rose was running out of patience. Normally, every store would have at least one of the staffs who bonded with loyal customers. 

Grayson was being careful. 

“It’s okay, it’s my fault anyway. I wonder if he’s gotten marriage with that girl he chased 3 years in college.”

“Oh he’s married. I think so.”

“What? Really.”

“Yeah, anyone with a ring that big on the finger is definitely taken. Biggest rock I’ve ever seen, guess billies does make a difference huh?”

That was it. This was what she needed. She loved this city.

“He comes here often?”

“Often enough, twice, three times roughly every week, rarely alone though.”

“Probably his family.”

“Oh no, definitely not his family. We Gothamizes all learn their faces by heart, and that guy is definitely not one of his brothers, far older to be one at least in case Bruce Wayne when coco head and brought just another kid into the line.”

“Strange, Richard once told me he doesn’t really have much friends in Gotham.” Because rich people didn’t have friends, they had partners. And only fools would made partners their friends. 

“I hope he’s not getting into trouble.”

“He’s the good egg, he probably won’t.”

Feeling like nothing could be squeezed out of the guy anymore, Rose made her quick gratitude and made a pass to leave. This was close enough to what she wanted from the start, she could still make a story out of this, raise the public curiosity, but for Perry? She needed more.

“Hey,” The barista suddenly called after her. He changed his face, resting his big arms down the counter like enjoying what he saw “You don’t seem to be like someone new in town.”

Rose huffed. “No, I used to live here.”

“Great, welcome back to the living hell. Wanna get a cup? My treat, I know how to make them.” He shrugged and Rose did take time to enjoy the way his shoulder muscle bundled up. 

“Come on, I think I’ve helped you enough for at least a cup in return.”

Despite his look, he didn’t act like a bad guy, sounded decent enough. Rose wasn’t that desperate, she was here for the main course but it was fun to have some side dishes along the way.

“Okay.”

He smiled brilliantly and pushed a paper cup toward her, a numbered note stuck on it. 

“Your word.” He winked and turned back to the coffee machine. 

Rose smirked, took the coffee and walked out the shop feeling as she was one step closer to the jackpot.

* * *

  
  


Three days passed with Rose decided to stay in and dugged a little into the ground base. Dick Grayson wasn’t hard to find, especially in Gotham, but he was exceptionally hard to trace for a multi billionaire celebrity heir. Running around like a headless snake wouldn’t take her anywhere besides from being washed further off shore. 

So her opening night of investigation started with a bottle of retailed 2015 Daou, Wayne’s tracklist on Bloomberg and Gotham large access liquidity reports in 5 years. Grayson was never a big piece in Wayne financial game but oh he was the queen of his public playground, even when laid low people still whispered his name under the lamppost like a sin. Nearly every piece of information proclaimed out on the market got something to do with Mr. Rich and Pretty and Rose was gonna stick to the surface until she found a big enough hole to jump down the dark water. 

Was she trying to be Lois Lane, probably not. Lois Lane was more into adventures, stories of heartbreaking courage and sacrifices that cut the onions and made the readers cried before they thought. Rose? She was more into secrets, way more. Secrets excited her, not just lame mojo of superheroes’ secret identities or what kind of woman the president was sleeping with behind his wife. She wanted something that made people talked and laughed and stabbed people in the back or pushed them out of their comfort zone and practiced their sarcasm. 

She loved dirtying the clean shoes. More than enough people had said she would made a finner piece somewhere of the screens and records than an oldy goody business slash politics herald like the Daily Planet. Those idiots wasn’t smart enough to learn that the fat guys in office loved scandals and bitch fights just as much as their ladies at home. 

Bruce Wayne would have been her kind of thing, if he wasn’t so damn good at what he did. A change of target wasn’t much of a loss. Richard Grayson was a goldmine by himself and for her own. He was clean, untouched, protected, and all just drove Rose on more. 

“I told you not to call on this number again.”

“Last favor Tom. Last favor.”

“No, I’m done. You hear me, I’m done.”

Tom was her intel in the heart of SAC. He worked at the head quarter, knew her since college and was foolish enough to let her get what she wanted until now. 

He was getting smarter, or worse, fearful.

Walking bare feet in this shitty apartment she once called a home, Rose was ready for the worst.

“This is some ugly shit you’re nosing in. It’s no longer fun game anymore.”

“Come on, don’t even say the SEC has never even tried to pry into Wayne’s 50 billions assets. I know how you guys work, once you smell the money you pull all the top dogs into the games just for a scratch of a bone. Or what, you’re gonna tell me both the FBI, USSS and DHS have got nothing on Bruce Wayne’s private life?”

If he was gonna say yes, she dared. These days a man couldn’t even keep his dick size a secret. Not to mention, Bruce Waye was ready to open the door for any reporter and brag about his jumbled lifestyle on the front pages like a 5 years old kid painting color pencils on a great white wall.

“Come one, throw me a bone would ya? Wayne isn’t the first billionaire you knock on the door.”

“No, you don’t fucking get it, do you Rose? I’m not fucking around. This is no longer about a billionaire alone, these...fuck, these are powerful people,_ powerful people _ Rose. I have my life to secure. I’ve got a kid and a wife, insurances and bills to pay. We’re done. I’m changing my number, and don’t you ever see me again.”

And he cut the line just like that.

That was a heartbreaking call. It left Rose struck daze. She admitted she overused Tom a lot, override on their boundaries more than a couple of times, but this time, this time he sounded heartfully terrified. And that was the first. 

Something was wrong about this. The worst an agent could dug out from Wayne were tax fraud, insider trading or bribery, all the shit the SAC chewed on like pecorino romano. 

An email from Tom came that caught her attention. 

This was some expensive bacon. It better be worth losing one valuable source of information and getting a middle finger emoji from him. 

She opened the files attached in the mail. 

“What the fuck?” was the first honest reaction she got when looking into the soft file of Richard John Grayson’s marriage certification. 

Jason Peter Todd. No matter how you looked at it, it was a man name. 

A man.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding.”

The sound of her laughter grew on its own record and she had no intention of stopping. This was beyond her expectation.

Sure question about the Wayne ward had been raised. He was a living magnet and gender wrecker since the day the boy hit puberty and became a man. But Grayson never left a breadcrumb to follow. 

“You never disappoint me, pretty boy.” 

She opened the other files. This time her smile dropped. What was left were all the record search for the hunt for Jason Peter Todd. There were 4 men with that name in America, and among them there was only one had ever left track in Gotham, a 16 years old kid died roughly 11 years ago. To sum up, Grayson practically married a ghost. 

Along were papers of Grayson’s financial transactions. Numbers of 9 digits danced in front of her eyes, not just a couple of times but to the point she might though he was funding national resources. She knew Waynes were rich, but this… this was abnormal. Perhaps abnormal enough for the SAC to switch target and aim their shot at him. 

And the last, the last was probably what had scared Tom shitless. Rose sat speechless sprawling her vision against the half blackened message signed by Amanda Waller with a seal stamp of the U.S Government. What was left uncovered was enough for Rose to understand Waller wanted to shut the whole investigation down the drain. And when The Wall spoke, you better listen. 

Rose didn’t know what of Amanda Waller, but she knew when it got her involvement, it was no longer pretty shit anymore. 

* * *

  
  


Rose spent a couple of days skimming through the files Tom had sent her, thinking, considering. 

Would Perry went apeshit if he found out she was still digging the Waynes? Yes he would. He would probably even go on a heart attack if knew she was ready to go this far. Did she care? Yeah, not a chance. What she cared though, was how wide this case could outspread. 

Grayson might be just a harmless billionaire ward but Amanda Waller was a dangerous, vicious woman that played games way beyond her world. 

Lying out on the sheet, staring at the moldy ceiling, her mind slowly wandered off Grayson. She remembered the note in jacket that probably still smelled like coffee. She had a whole night off, and it was still early, early enough to make a dinner out possible. 

She didn’t think much before dialling the number in the note, leaning on the cloth rag while waiting for the line to connect. She didn’t have to wait long though. 

“Hello?”

“I hope you still remember the desperate girl you helped on that sunny Tuesday.”

There was a silent moment, but then he quickly caught up. “Of course. You took your time though.”

“I hope I didn’t call late enough for a night out.”

There was a low huff. “You call just in time. Where’s your place?”

“Sandall, Uptown. Not too far?”

“Pretty close actually. There’s a pretty good place on Melor street, not too far away. I’ll send you the address.”

“Okay, see you in an hour.”

  
  


He was right. It was a pretty good place, better than what she could expect from a barista. She watched the chandelier on the ceiling, fingers curved around the edge of the menu while edging closer toward the window, violins echoed in the space layered by the sound of glass softly hitting each other. 

Tucking her shoulder closer to the window, she always liked sitting near an open space, either a twinch of her job or just a personal edge, but she liked looking at people, catching anything that might catch her thinking, or just simply watching the streets. 

Gotham at night was unapologetically urban. There weren’t many trees or city planted bloom, at least on this side of the city, just monoliths of concrete soaring out of the sidewalks in an exact grid pattern. Apart from the jumbled cast of signs and home lights, everything else bore the colors of an old film. It was beautiful in its own way. 

“I hope you didn’t wait for long.”

When she looked up, for a moment she heard every single beat in her chest as if falling into a void. She couldn’t close the small gap her lips had part when the dark suit man pulled his chair and helped him sit down. 

“It’s a cold night for October, don’t you think?”

He was handsome from the depth of brilliant blue eyes to the gentle expression in his voice. He was elegant from the way his slim fingers wrapped around the menu to the slight little curve on edge of his cherry lips. Not one single feature failed to make people judged him as the prettiest thing they had ever seen, but under this gold chandelier light, the shimmering candles on their table and the hovering Boccherini in the air, his impression shone like January embers of a heavy snow night. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Mr. Grayson.”

“Really? Here I thought that was what you really wanted.” He didn’t even look at her, fingers flipped pages through the menu until he made his pick. One of his guards went standing right behind her chair, and the other didn’t shy from staring at her right in the face. 

“It must not have been comfortable hiding yourself behind Ferragamo outwear rack.”

“I see you still have the instinct of a hunted fox.”

“I grew up under flashlights and footsteps of people feeding on my fame since I was 10, Ms. Miller.” He said it quick just to turn to the waiter. “I’ll have the Tewahi Pinot Noir, please. Thank you.”

Just when he gave away the menu, Rose saw it. She saw it. She must have been too caught up with his addictive beauty and the way he swayed a person’s mind under wordless charm that she had missed that huge ring on his finger. 

She recognized it. Even though she had never seen it before but she knew it by heart. That same tint of pleasing blackness rounded around his pretty pale finger. Those same lights of mixed diamonds from the sky and gems of mermaid eyes hugging around the edges. Right in the middle, bolded up like an emperor’s ego wrapped in molded silver and gold, an exquisite stone cut finner than any pretty money rocks out in the market beared the same shade of Maldives deep water under sunlight and Grayson’s majestic eyes. 

He wore the ring like a medal. Like a crown. 

Grayson’s full lips curled, his delicate fingers wrapped around a fallen lock and tucked it behind his pierced ear. He knew she was staring, knew the attention he earned like a given prize. Strange how under this light, without even a word, he changed his smile from charmingly warm to something strangely seductive. Exotic, hazardous, intoxicating but like a 60 stories building, the deadly height only urged you to jump more just to grasp a moment of feeling the flight. 

Rose finally understood why men had such a thing for Richard Grayson. He was the juicy poison apple everybody killed for a deadly bite. 

“That’s quite a thing you have there.” Rose bit the inside of her mouth, eyes glued on his lips, his eyes. She was wearing rouge, but tonight, he was the only rose grown among the grass. 

“You seem to like it a lot.” 

“Oh I do. I can write three pages about that alone.”

He laughed. Teeth of pearls spread, perfectly aligned, one dimple crinkled. It was as if watching spring flowers bloomed, she could see how the open joy came from deep inside to light his eyes and subtly soaked into parts of him. 

He was really beautiful. Beautiful in a way no one could touch. Beautiful in a way a taken thing was. 

“That’s a big rock even for your standard. Who put it on you?”

“You’re not one to skirt around, aren’t you?”

She huffed. Her eyes never left the way the form fitting turtleneck perfectly hugged around his built form. He had a long neck, long enough for any jewelry man to scorn to make him their muse. “Last time I heard, you were still single.”

“And when was your last time?”

“Close enough for a question.”

He laughed again, but this time the sound didn’t make Rose feel comfortable. He tilted his head back and hid the roles of his teeth behind the back of his ringed hand, blinking eyes behind lashes like secretly looking down and mocking on Rose’s idiocy. 

He took a sip of wine, turling the glass with hand of 20 years experience in aristocrat lifestyle. Unlike the rising entrepreneurs and tech giants, Waynes were always on their own class among the 0.1% of the world. They were old money, their power came both from assets and the weight of their name that had rooted through decades and centuries. Grayson might be just a foreign flower transplanted into a big tree but he never looked apart in that big world, in fact, he seemed destined to be a part of it.

“Tell me, what’s the fun of me that you try to hunt out? The media’s been letting me off the hook for quite a time, so to be seeing you, to be honest, has quite surprised me.”

He was different. A lot different. He still looked the same, still have that same charm that swiped most people of their feet but to Rose, he had changed. He owned a different confidence the big boy 7 years ago had. 

Whoever he was wedded to, was big. 

Rose could sense the game was turning toward an unwanted direction.

“You want me to tell the truth?”

“It’s better if you do. It’s not that difficult seeing through a lie.”

Cocky, but for reasons. 

“You’re the big catch everybody’s looking away. Bruce Wayne’s party is over now. The media wants something new.”

“And that something new is me? Ms. Miller, what do you expect to find from me? That I’m actually Batman?”

“Believe it or not, people nowadays care more about your foot size than whoever’s face behind the cowl.”

“It’s 10. Other might say I’m actually more than that but no, I’m just about average.”

She laughed. “You’re nowhere near average, Mr. Grayson.”

“Besides from my father’s assets and my own shyness from the scandalous showbiz, what makes you think so?”

She stared at his pretty face, shrugged. “You’re my target.” She was being honest.

And as if reading her mind, his cherry lips curled. What challenged Rose’s courage during this conversation more than knowing who he was, was sensing him reading her mind like an open book. 

He tucked his hair behind his ear again, the rocks on his finger flashed lights against her face, snapping her out of the game. With shock she realized he had so smoothly washed their conversation along with her attention off the main subject. 

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“I’ve thought you’re no longer interested.”

Those pretty lips parted again and before hearing a single word, anger waved in her stomach like tides. She hated how he did this, winning and forcing her to admit it. 

“It’s a man, isn’t it? It has to be a man.”

“The media must find it fun pairing me with another man.”

“Beneficial, mostly.”

“Smart move, either or not it raise ideas or deliberation of moral and standard, it’s the papers that get the fine cuts when people talk.”

“You know the drill.”

“Of course I do, it’s hard to blink away the matter when sitting across the same writer of the article about me and my bodyguard 10 years ago.”

Of course he did the digging. Of course he remembered. 

“It was only a stepping stone.”

“He was on court for custody of his daughter at that time. You must have slept well after stepping on that stone.”

No, she didn’t. That guard found her house, screamed at her face right at the open street and got her ex dump her. 

“It didn’t change the fact he had special feelings toward you.”

“So does half of Gotham.”

Fuck, she knew he was good. She didn’t know he was _ this _fucking good. No wonder his father put him on fund raising and charity work. This boy could drench a seven zero check out of anyone with his cunning tongue and fluttering lashes. 

“Everybody has secrets, Mr. Grayson. You shine so bright I’m just dying to see your shadow.”

His nails drummed down the table in rhythm. He had pretty hands, but no matter how you saw it, it was a man’s hand, he had callouses and big knuckles. 

“Are you sure you want to see my shadow, Ms. Miller?”

Asking with a cunning smile, he was daring her. 

“Have you ever heard of a story about a mouse that started roaring like a lion?”

“No...”

“Well, it didn’t end well for the mouse.” 

His eyes were as immobile as the rest of his face. The sapphires craved to swallow, deluge and tear her soul apart. She wondered how he did it, start and stop a conversation with his will and forced people to willingly follow the mood he set. It took more than just a pretty face to do what he did and to be what he was. 

“Well,” He broke the tension, visibly giving Rose back the air to suck before she even realized she had held a breath. “If you still insist on seeing my shadow, why don’t you follow me outside, Ms. Rose.”

His guard touched her shoulder, and for a moment, she thought of screaming. 

“Why should I trust you?”

Richard chuckled. “You can’t expect a magician to show their tricks in front of an open curtain, can you.”

He wasn’t accepting a no, and the hand on Rose’s shoulder was getting heavier and heavier. 

They got out on the street, and it didn’t take even a second for Rose to spot the three SUV lining up were all Grayson’s. The car in the middle opened its door, a dark two-button suited man nailed his brogues down the pavement. He fixed his long jacket, thin lips curled just around the edge as season wind blew on the bang of his gelled down undercut because he knew, Rose recognized him.

It was harder to forget a face like that and the ring on his hand than having a second chance of meeting. Rose knew, the moment her eyes got caught in those grayish turquoise eyes and his devil may cry smile, he was someone extraordinary. 

Guess she didn’t think he was extraordinary enough for Grayson.

Grayson came to him, fell into his waiting open arm and got pulled into his chest like a nature. He was never a small man, he was just about average, but next to that guy, she felt like they could only play their game in one way.

A kiss landed on his cheek, surprising sweet and endearing. They both stared back at her, and for the second time of the night, Rose felt like she was a deer caught in the wolves hunting ground.

“Welcome to my shadow, Ms. Miller.”

* * *

No matter how big the car was, the air was suffocating. Squeezed between these two men, Rose felt like she could had asthma at any time. 

Grayson’s man didn’t say anything, which stressed the atmosphere even more. All he did was carelessly swiping his long finger over the tablet screen, next to him, Grayson suddenly turned busy texting. 

They sat just like that long enough for Grayson’s cologne to get into her head. It was a unique scene, wasn’t like flowers or wood, it smelt more of clean cloth, sunlight, of that air when the earth was covered with dry leaves. It was hard to describe because if she closed her eyes, she could even taste the fade scent of citrus danced on her tongue like tasting a dry chip of grapefruit. 

“Looks like Damian got the deal with American Steel.”

“He just hates using my money.” 

“What word does he calls it? Oh, black money. He made a list of various colorful comments when you made the offer. It’s a good move, though. If American Steel did withdraw their 2 billions, it would go public. Others would see and follow, all falls down like dominos. You can cover American Steel, but other institutions? Not a chance.”

“What if I say I have my own way of replacing American Steel _ and _keeping others onboard?”

Grayson huffed, putting away his phone. They both looked at each other and thought of Rose as thin air. 

“I know _ your own way _. Not very good for public.”

“You know if it’s me, it’d never go public.” And instantly, his eyes were on Rose. 

It was for Rose, whatever threat he meant.

There was a certain thing about the color of his eyes that made her skin prickled. She couldn’t put her fingers on it, it was like smoke and ice and everything bad. It made him an enigma. A very handsome enigma.

Grayson yawned. He had gotten tired of having nothing in his hand so he reached over and took the tablet away from his husband. Twice the size with an aura of an alpha but the man let Grayson did whatever he wanted like spoiling a 3 years old kid. 

Freed from all the leisure, he turned to Rose with the same devil may cry smirk he had worn the day Rose met him at the supermarket. 

“So,” He entwinned his hand, eyes glinting while staring at Rose’s face. “We’ve met again.”

“You followed me.”

“Oh no, don’t value yourself that much. This happens by pure chance. It’s a small world, a smaller town, don’t you think?” He made it sound airy, weightless. Despite it, his big veiny hands and open sharp white teeth only revealed a hound playing with his prey. “Now, tell me. What is the reason that suddenly out of the blue the media is seeking for my lovely husband here?”

Husband. Rose snorted in her head. He said the word so confidently. It wasn’t an information, it was a declaration. An information was a gift for a reporter, a declaration though, was a warning sign stamped half a mile from an accident.

“I can charge you for multiple crimes, Ms. Rose. Stalking, personation, frauding news, that alone could end your career and put you on black list of any media institution.”

“I can also write about this. Dick Grayson’s shocking secret of billions dollar gay marriage: A pawn or a queen in Wayne’s strategic move.”

“No foreplay, I like it. You cut me some time” He smirked and looked at Grayson. “You always know how to pick the best.”

Grayson shrugged back, didn’t even look up from his phone.

“Time is precious, even more for powerful people.”

“It is indeed. It’s quite a viral headlines for the Daily Planet, don’t you think?”

He did his homework. All of her exits were cut down to zero. There was only one way to do this, rolling with the game. 

“Viral, but it gets the point.”

“So it’s about attention.”

“Use whatever word you want.”

“Words matter, Ms. Miller. You should care more about them, given your profession.”

Rose stopped, looked into his eyes. 

“Alright, it’s about attention. You’re not denying though.”

“The billion dollar gay mariage part or the pawn or queen of the move part? I can assure you only one of that is fault, so why don’t you take your guess.”

He was young, just as young as Grayson, but he sure didn’t speak young. His voice conveyed authority. His spoken words emanating from his six foot something stature commanded attention. His pace and tone in speaking reminded Rose more of an aged congressman handing out vital comments on press rather than a good looking rich man wedded to a scandalous billionaire’s young ward. Either he was a really cocky dick sitting on a bunch of inheritance, or he was a sleeping dragon Rose shouldn’t poke on with a wooden stick. 

Working in this job for 10 years, she knew the fucking difference between a dick and a dragon. 

“Now, what makes you think I’d let you write such a thing about him?”

“Because if anything happens to me, this conversation and everything follows go public.”

“And how exactly would you do that?”

She took her phone out of her bag, Perry’s name branded on the screen. The clock was ticking, the line was connected, the whole time. 

She existed this whole time in this industry not just by wearing rouge and pencil dresses. 

“Perry White, editor in chief of the Daily Planet. I’m sure you, your husband, or at least your husband’s adopted father, must have heard of him. Our entire conversation is heard _ and _possitively recorded. I’m sure he’s more than ready to testify if anything happens to me that went off the book.”

The whole car stayed silent for a moment, long enough for Rose to grasp the feeling of victory until Grayson balled up laughing. He didn’t even pretend to hide the ecstasy behind his pretty hand like he did in the restaurant, his shoulder jerked and jolted under every sound. Rose could sense his breath punching out through cherry lips and hitting her skin like a slap on the face.

His husband held it better but the way he rolled his lips up and showed his teeth in a way that could make a kid shit his pants. 

Without a word he lifted the phone off Rose’s hand and gave it to his husband.

“Perry,” Grayson beamed, sounding way too happy for someone on the losing side. “This is Grayson.”

“Good evening, sir.”

“I expect you’ve caught every word so far.”

“Indeed, sir.”

Rose had never heard Perry giving knee this much in her life and she didn’t like the sound of it right now.

“It’s a good thing you did, cause I was hoping you can set up your schedule and join me for lunch next Saturday. I’m sure there’s more than enough thing we can discuss on what happens tonight.” He stopped, eyes cast down and dashed to look at Rose. “My husband here would also love to join us.”

Perry stayed quiet. Quiet for long enough Rose started to feel cold. It wasn’t that hard for her to imagine her boss rubbing his wrinkled forehead and biting his lips while balling up his phone like ready to launch it out of the window.

“Mr. White.” Richard’s husband was staring at her. He kept staring at her while speaking. 

All shit was hitting the fan and Rose was getting shredded. 

“Mr. Todd.”

And that was the final hit. 

She heard his name, again and again and again in her head, with Terry’s voice. For a moment that was all she heard. 

“I hope you can make it on Saturday. They make a very fine ribeye on the East.”

“I’ll bring over a Carbenet.”

He laughed with a mouthful of teeth. 

“I’ll see you then, Perry.”

“Have a good evening, Mr. Todd. Mr. Grayson.”

Rose was picking on her nails and staring down the designed matt when Grayson’s husband shut the call and put her phone back inside her bag.

“Now, what were we discussing earlier.”

“Attention.” Rose’s voice shivered. She didn’t even realize she was shaking.

“You certainly have mine now, Ms. Miller.”

He sat back, fixed his coat again. “Have you ever heard of the story about a mouse that started roaring like a lion.”

“It didn’t end well for the mouse.”

“Oh it didn’t. You’re not the first rodent chitting around my husband’s feet for attention. When there’s a fine cake everybody wants a bite but when it’s my cake, I make sure to sterilize around 100 square feet area so not even a fly can enter the same room without gasping for air.”

Rose sucked in a breath, filled herself with Grayson’s soft scent and his little lazy smile by the window. 

“Are you threatening me?”

“Do the math, Ms. Miller.”

“What happens to me after this conversation?”

She needed to know. If he was the smart wolf with class and manners she assumed he was, he’d tell her. 

“That’s a question for Perry, don’t you think? Whatever that follows after tonight lies beyond my authority.”

“And what is your authority?”

“Carving meaning of life on the other side of the track” He looked at Grayson behind her shoulder and showed his teeth again. “You don’t want me to speak about my authority, Ms. Miller. There are far darker things than shadows even when the sun rises high and you’ve got nowhere near the gut to fall into them.”

“Make it quick, Jason. I’m hungry.”

“You hear what he just said? He’s hungry. Now I’ve been a very good husband to him for almost a decade and I intend to keep it that way til the end of my life so don’t be so full of yourself to think your worth enough of my time for his dinner.”

“I don’t-”

“Like you said, Ms. Miller. Time is precious.”

She didn’t even get a moment to breath. There was this man right here staring at her like he was three second away from cracking her skull and throwing her body around somewhere of the East code, and right on her other side was Grayson yawning and not giving a damn of how his husband was openly spreading death threat to a reporter as if it was something… familiar.

Fuck. 

“So tell me, what would you do after getting of this car?”

“I go home.”

“Be more specific.”

“I go home, get change, and go to bed.”

“You wouldn’t open your computer, check the news, call your intel, fill some in?”

“N-no… I wouldn’t.”

“Well isn’t it nice to give yourself a day off.”

He rubbed his palms and the car door opened. And there he was, the man she was supposed to meet tonight, the bulky barista in a damn fine suit holding on the door for her. 

He smirked down on her fear, her disturbance. 

She got off the car quick enough the air slapped on her face hurt. Not even a glimpse behind the shoulder was spared, reflexing back on the shiny paint of the car was her figure.

Before getting on one of the two SUV’s, the barista turned his head to her behind his shoulder, his eyes didn’t stay long enough for Rose to catch. 

“His favorite was never iced americano, it’s flat white.”

And just like that, they drove off. 

* * *

  
  


Going back to work was no different to walking on the path of shame. She didn’t even have to stand twelve steps away to see Perry leaning against her table, waiting for her. 

Automatically, she walked into his office. 

He didn’t have to speak to express his anger. Perry had his own way of forcing staffs under his nose to smell his rage from 3 floors range. Littler people would say its autocracy, smarter ones would see a man with too many responsibilities and too many scraps to sweep.

Today, she just add one more scrap onto his already filled hands. 

“What did I say last time?”

“No more Wayne.”

“And what did you do?” 

“Grayson.”

Perry sucked in a breath, sighed. “I’ve had a very tense lunch in a floating restaurant by the East Coast last Saturday.”

“What did they say?”

Perry looked like he could breathe fire.

Okay, that was the wrong question, but she didn’t give shit anymore. All she thought throughout the weekend sleepless was how Grayson had looked that night.

He was beautiful. So beautiful right after every word his man had left her sunk under her skin and marked themselves there like a tattoo, she could only grasp the memory of how gorgeous he had been in that turtleneck, how well it had hugged his form, how straight he had sit, and how gentle his smiles had felt. 

He was a breathtaking creation she could never brag to this world. 

“I’ll tell you this, he didn’t say much, didn’t have to, Grayson didn’t even show up. But every little word his husband generously gave me felt like a damn rope on the neck. You know why?”

Rose shrugged. She hated this, hated when being scolded like a 5 years old kid. But Perry just loved it, didn’t he.

“I had to spend 30 minutes listening to that man dropping parables and hints of his work while chewing on a $45 ribeye. And it wasn’t a fun story to listen to, not at all Rose.” 

Perry walked to his chair, then around it. He had this routine of walking around when his head had too many things to process. 

“You know, in those 30 minutes, he was making more than I ever could in 30 years just by sitting there.”

“So he’s rich.”

“No,” Terry’s vein was showing. He bit his lips, trying to play patient. “He’s not just rich, Rose. Rich is the congressman born twelve block from your neighborhood, super rich is Bruce Wayne. This man’s rich is walking down the street pointing finger at any building in this city and the next week it has his name one it.”

“Most people build power from their money, Rose. This guy makes money from his power. There’s a difference between those two terms and if you keep blinking it off, I can’t risk keeping you as a pen in Daily Planet.”

“I see the difference.”

“Good, from today, you’re down to legal.”

“Wait, what?”

“You heard me. Pack your stuff and move down to 14th, Christine will be in charge of you.”

“Christine Pier? She’s a walking zombie and actually smells like one. Legal is a graveyard, only dead people go there.”

“Then welcome to adulthood, Ms. Miller.”

She bit her lips so hard blood was coating her tongue. There wasn’t even a choice, and Perry wasn’t even asking. Either she accepted this and moved down to 14th, or take a leave and burry her 8 years of glory as a reporter with a blog at home. 

No place would take her, not after that night. 

So she came back to her desk, feeling like murdering someone when suddenly something caught her eyes. 

A rose lied on her table, not rouge like every other but blue, mystic blue. As blue as Grayson’s eyes that night under the candle light. 

That night came back to her mind again. Grayson’s eyes under the candle light. His husband’s low voice in the car. 

  
  


She stormed off the building that day, never looking back. 


End file.
